


One For The Road

by fiach_dubh



Series: Lo's Sexy Adventures [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Face-Sitting, Femslash, Femslash February, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, alcohol use, canon-level swearing, fallout femslash february, mild shoe kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 12:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5869270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiach_dubh/pseuds/fiach_dubh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just 9 pages of Magnolia flirting with and fucking a hot butch mercenary woman. No more, no less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One For The Road

**Author's Note:**

> So, hey, just so you know both parties drink alcohol before they have sex. It's not enough to impair judgement in any way, but in case it bothers you you know now.
> 
> Ialperiel and chocochipbiscuit beta'd. They're great, and any remaining errors are mine.

It's not that there were never new faces at the Third Rail, it's just that they always looked the same as the old ones. And eventually, they became old faces, the same regulars watching, listening, drinking. Sure, there's a few stragglers, travellers, caravans and that sort. In, out, but they usually became regulars in their own way too. 'Less the Commonwealth got them.

This woman though, she'd not got the look of either – not an outcast finding home, or a wanderer on a rest stop. All hard-edged in the way of a person who makes their living with a gun, sure enough, but there's a something else there.

She was sitting at the bar, body leaning loose and casual over the old scarred wood, the neon catching in her hair, across the line of one cheekbone. Magnolia was suddenly very aware of the smell of cigarette smoke and old sweat, all senses working at their best at the sight of this stranger.

Magnolia knew enough of herself to know that it was probably her own interest colouring the air, and not anything specific about this woman. But still.

It's the way she was watching, steady and sure, gaze not breaking. Not in that creepy, heavy way that sometimes happened, when a 'fan' decided that Magnolia owed them something, but just - there. Magnolia tried to concentrate on hitting her notes. Her mouth and throat were so dry and tight, close to the end of the night as it was.

Across the room the woman leaned to talk to Charlie, without breaking eye contact. She smiled, handed some caps over. Got two glasses of whiskey in return. She settled back on her stool and lifted one to Magnolia.

Well. That was signal enough, wasn't it?

Song done, applause quiet but genuine, and the rush that always came with that. Better than any chem she'd ever tried.

Magnolia slid into the stool next to the stranger, who grinned and pushed the undrunk drink across to her.

“Nice singing,” she said. “Liked that bit about skinny-dipping.”

Magnolia took a sip, let the cheap booze burn in her throat. She looked at the woman properly, without smoke and distance blurring the sight.

She wasn't pretty, not really. Too hard-featured, wiry. She had a nose that had been broken once or twice, a strong jaw. A rough edge to her, for all she was wearing what looked like her cleanest, newest, nicest clothes. But she had soft, mousey curls, an odd touch of gentleness.

“A lot of people like the skinny-dipping,” she said. She smiled, and added “I'm Magnolia.”

“I know. I asked the robot. I'm Lo.”

“Lo?”

Lo winked. “Short for Yellow. Ma thought it was a pretty colour.”

Magnolia put her glass down. “Doesn't seem your kind of colour.”

“Nah.” Lo leaned forward, tucked a finger under the strap of Magnolias stage dress. Her finger was cool, dry, with callouses. “I prefer red,” she said.

Magnolias breath caught, just a little. Just one finger. But, oh, what she might be able to do with one finger.

This woman. Lo. With her calloused hands and her broken nose and her rough edges – just what Magnolia needed tonight. Just what she wanted. And Lo was definitely into it, herself.

All the same, Magnolia wanted to be certain. 

She put her hand on Lo's. “What brings you to Goodneighbor, Lo?” She made her voice as sultry as she could.

“Work. And rumours that they had a very talented singer.”

“Oh, I hope I didn't disappoint.” Magnolia stroked the fingers beneath hers.

“Hmmm. No. No-one mentioned you were so good-looking though.”

Magnolia licked her lips, stared right into Lo's eyes. 

“I'm hurt,” she said. “I'm used to people shouting my praises to the sky.”

Lo laughed, low and dirty. “Maybe later.”

Oh. Oh. 

“I'm done for the night.” it came out in a rush, too eager.

Lo pulled her hand back, stretched. Her checked shirt rode up a little, revealing a pale, hard stomach. Magnolia wanted to touch it, press her mouth against it, work lower. The chatter from the bar faded away.

“We could head out together,” said Magnolia.

Lo slid off the stool, oddly graceful for a woman as angular as she was. She held out her hand. Magnolia took it.

It wasn't uncommon for Magnolia to leave with company. She knew what she wanted, no shy and retiring violet her. She slid her hand up Lo's arm into the crook of her elbow, feeling rather like some pre-war flirt being escorted home. 

Outside the air was cool, a little damp. It would be misty in the morning, but for now it was clear. The moon was only a sliver, a white grin in a blue-black sky. Goodneighbor was as quiet as it ever got, all the residents bedded down or lost in chem hazes. It felt like Magnolia and Lo were the only people awake.

Perhaps Lo's thoughts were on the same path. Perhaps not. Either way she stopped in the street and lifted Magnolias hand to her mouth.

“Such gentility,” said Magnolia.

“I'll show you gentility.”

Lo backed up, dragging Magnolia with her, til Lo's back was against a wall. She slipped her hands around Magnolias waist and Magnolia leaned in gladly. They were of a height with Magnolia in heels.

Lo slipped one hand up to Magnolia's cheek.

“You're so beautiful,” Lo said, and leaned in to kiss her.

Lo's lips weren't soft. Nothing about Lo was soft. But she kissed sweet and hot and with the promise of even more heat to come. Magnolia opened her mouth wider, let the kiss get deeper. Lo's other hand slipped down from her waist to cup an ass cheek and she made a pleased little murmur deep in the back of her throat.

Lo smelled like the whiskey. She tasted like it. Magnolia could have happily got drunk off her.

When they broke the kiss Magnolia was breathless, more than a little turned on. 

“I got a room in that hotel,” said Lo. “We could? If you want.”

“Oh, I want.”

“Good thing too, you've made me so wet.”

Filthy and crude and right out there, like that, none of the witty little asides Magnolia was good at crafting. She shuddered, said 'Oh, fuck', out loud.

Another kiss, fiercer, all wet and hard, lots of tongue, a delicate scrape of teeth down Magnolia's bottom lip. 

The walk to the hotel never seemed so far, so pointless. She'd get to her knees in an alleyway right now if Lo asked, lick her fast or slow or whatever until Lo was done, let the tautness and desperation of lust take her there.

But a bed would be better, even if she was pretty sure the Hotel Rexford stuffed their stained mattresses with the clothes of dead drifters.

Flickering lights and the smell of old drink and older drunks, Lo laughing like sin itself as they stumbled up the stairs, high on want and the warmth of each other. Seedy and tired to some people maybe, this dirty, exhausted room, these two strangers getting ready to fuck, but not to Magnolia. She'd had seedy, had tired, and this had a glow to it none of those times had ever achieved.

Brighter light revealed that Lo had freckles, spattered across nose and cheekbones like dirt. Magnolia wanted to touch them, so she brushed her finger across, gentle yet with intent.

Lo didn't waste time. Of course not. Her shirt was already half unbuttoned, revealing a faded undershirt and the soft swell of her small breasts. She blushed a little under the freckles and that was just so charming that Magnolia kissed the blush, with a soft open mouth.

“Look at you,” said Lo, shrugging the shirt off and letting it fall crumpled on the floor. “Look at you.”

“You want a better look?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Magnolia knew how to tease, knew how to make a show. She pulled one of her dress straps to the side, letting Lo see more of her shoulders, before sliding it back. Did the same on the other side. Lo blinked and watched, hands paused on the button fly of her jeans.  
Magnolia ran hands down her body, her little waist, curvy hips. Flirted with pulling the hem of her dress up a little, revealing tantalising glimpses of leg, before she slowly inched it up her body.

Lo sat down on the bed, and kept watching.

Slow, steady, seductive. Dress off and Magnolia was in her underwear, glad she had worn one of the nice sets (the one with the colour and gleam of pre-war pearls) that had cost her a pretty pile of caps from a travelling caravan. She left her heels on, knowing and loving the effect that created. 

Lo seemed to agree. The cockiness was gone from that handsome, angular face and instead she looked like someone had punched the brains right out of her.

“Looks like you need to catch up,” Magnolia said and Lo swallowed, nodded and bent to take off her shoes. Hurried, fumbling, they were off and kicked across the room, followed by the jeans and then both of them were in their underwear.

Study in contrasts, a part of Magnolia noted. Magnolia, all smoky glamour and carefully restrained sexual promise, shaved smooth. Skin soft, hair carefully styled. She'd not look out of place in a tattered pin-up magazine. And Lo, a rougher prospect by far. Chest almost flat, all of her wiry muscle. Unshaven, too, because what woman who made her living out in the wilds bothered with that little pre-atomic beauty ritual? Pale under the clothes, where the sun never touched, freckled where it did.

It was good though, that difference. Made something in Magnolia go all weak and molten.

There was a moment of breathless silence, a kind of fragile, tense expectation in the air between them, then Magnolia broke it, sashayed on her heels across the room and kissed Lo. Hard.

Then it was all hands on skin and frantic kisses and they were on the bed with Lo on top of her and that warm weight did something to her head, to her cunt, so her hands were under Lo's undershirt, pushing it up past those little tits with their surprisingly dark nipples. It was suddenly a very good idea to kiss those nipples, suck them, even bite them a little, and she was clearly onto something there because Lo groaned and god, yes.

They broke apart for Lo to take her shirt all the way off and haul Magnolia up to a sitting position. Up this close, Magnolia could see the scars that marked her. Old wounds, long healed, one redder and fresher than the others. Knife wound, maybe, or animal attack.

Lo fumbled with the bra catch a bit, swore. 

“What the fuck, these hooks or maglocks?” 

Magnolia laughed, reached behind her own back to help Lo get the pretty bra off. 

“Ah-ha,” said Lo “Now these were worth it.”

She cupped Magnolia's breasts in her hands like they were something precious, rare and valuable, and pressed a gentle kiss to the soft skin between them. 

“They're not going to break, Lo,”

“No? Then maybe I should -” And Lo pressed her mouth down hard just under Magnolia's left nipple, sucking at the skin, worrying a little at it with her teeth. Magnolia gasped and shuddered. 

Lo pulled back, her smile wicked.

“Lie back,” she said.

Magnolia did, letting her head fall onto the lumpy pillow (straw?). Lo ran her hands up the insides of Magnolia's thighs. “So soft,” she murmured.

Those warm and rough-skinned hands moved up further, oh-so-slow, until at last a thumb brushed against the crotch of Magnolia's underpants.

“So wet for me,” Lo breathed.

Magnolia held her breath. Lo rubbed at the crotch a little harder, deliberately avoiding all but the most brief and delicate touches against the clit.

“You like being eaten out?” Lo asked.

Magnolia managed to snort. “Of course,” she said. Her voice was flimsy.

“Keep your heels on, Magnolia, I wanna feel them digging into my shoulders.”

Oh. Oh, oh.

Two rough thumbs tucked into the waistband of her underwear, and then Lo slipped them off, leaving Magnolia naked except for her shoes.

Lo pressed a kiss onto the patch of skin just above Magnolias pubic hair. 

She looked up, met Magnolia's gaze, and bent her head just that little further – 

At the first touch of lips to, well, lips, Magnolia sighed out, long and ragged. She brought her legs round Lo's shoulders. Lo was being slow for now, almost gentle. Kisses, long slow laps of tongue, avoiding the clit almost entirely. Just working to get Magnolia even wetter, even looser in her limbs, breathing fast and letting out the occasional soft moan.

She broke from her work to ask Magnolia “D'you like a finger or two?” Magnolia nodded, distantly glad to hear the rough tone in Lo's voice, evidence that she wasn't the only one here getting lost in sensation, the only one of them made giddy and stupid with sex.

“Hmm.” Lo went back to it, this time paying steadily increasing attention to Magnolia's most sensitive parts. She slipped one thick finger in, then another, moved them slowly.

“You're so good at this,” said Magnolia.

As if in response, Lo crooked her fingers up at the exact right spot at the same time as she suddenly sucked at Magnolia's clit and Magnolia howled in shocked pleasure.

Magnolia dug her heels in hard against Lo's shoulders, thinking this is what she wants, I want to give her what she wants.

“Oh – oh fuck. More of that. More.”

So Lo did it again, and backed off a bit, and then did it again just as Magnolia was settling back down from the last one, and by the fourth repetition she was coming hard, eyes squeezed shut, voice gone silent. She never came loud. It was always just a tense body, a strangled grunt, and a sudden relaxation.

Lo pulled back a little, and when Magnolia relaxed she tried an experimental lap against her cunt. Magnolia wriggled back. “No, no. I can never go again so soon. Too sensitive.”

“Sure,” said Lo, and slid her fingers out. She sat back on her heels. Maybe it was the sex talking, but Magnolia thought that Lo might be the best thing she'd ever seen, even in the shitty hotel room lighting.

The seaside smell of her own orgasm was thick in the air.

“Gimme a minute and I'll return the favour,” she said. God, but she wanted that, her mouth on Lo's pussy.

“That'd be good. Hey, you mind -”

“Mind what?”

Lo laced her fingers behind her head, smiled all tender and soft. Her mouth was wet. With Magnolia. 

“Well, would you like if I sat on your face?”

Magnolia groaned again. Too soon for anything more than a brief, semi-interested spark in her groin, but fuck was her body doing its best.

“God yes,” she said.

Lo crawled up her body. Sometime in the last little while her cheap white underpants had gone the way of the rest of her clothes, and she was completely naked. Scarred, no softness to her shape, and utterly gorgeous, so stunning to look, to see, to touch and taste and...

Magnolia caught herself licking her lips.

Lo hovered over Magnolias head. “You want out, tap my thigh three times,” she said before lowering herself.

She was good at the balance of this. Not enough weight to smother or panic, but not keeping herself artificially high either, so that Magnolia was lost in soft flesh, in the taste and smell of her, no choice but to lick and suck and enjoy until Lo was done. She gripped Lo's thighs tight and went in hard, with enthusiasm, eyes closed. The sounds of her own wet tongue against Lo's body, that sweet-sharp musk in her mouth, and the noises Lo made – filthy, hot, unrestrained. Grunts and groans and the occasional swearword.

Unlike Magnolia, Lo was loud in orgasm, loud and foul mouthed, yelling out 'shit, fuck, your MOUTH' before her thighs clenched solid and she moaned. Maybe more like screamed.

“Keep going, keep going, I can do another, keep going...”

Well, Magnolia was never one to deny herself, so she kept going through her aching jaw and the way her tongue was starting to get tired and this time she brushed a finger against Lo, waiting for a yes or a no and Lo wanted it so in that went and that was good too, with Lo so hot and wet against Magnolias skin, feeling every texture of the inside of her, and Lo didn't take long for a second go at all and wasn't that satisfying?

And after they were quiet, until they caught sight of each other, all mussed and sweaty and utter messes and they laughed and laughed, because this had been wonderful and ridiculous and a little silly, and wasn't that the best kind of sex?

Later, Magnolia pulled her clothes back on while Lo watched, a distant and smug smile on her face.

“I don't know if I'll ever be back this way,” Lo said. 

Magnolia shrugged. “I don't usually go back for seconds anyway, lover,”

“That's a shame.” Just that. No anger or hurt, just that.

A little pang in Magnolia. No, she didn't normally go back for seconds, but – Lo. There had been a distant promise there.

“But hey, you every find yourself back here, I might break that rule.”

Lo stretched up, her breasts going flat with the movement.

“Good to know.”

-

Of course, two weeks after Lo left, that vaultie crawled out of her frozen hole and everything was up in the air. And Magnolia tried, tried to remind herself that Lo had said she might never be back, but the Commonwealth was a dangerous place, and it was hard not to think – not to think -

(Stupid girl, Magnolia, she's just a merc you had one night with -)

Of that lean and scarred body dead, taken by raiders or animals or supermutants. Kidnapped by the Institute. Irradiated by those weird atom cultists. 

(I might break that rule.) She would break that rule, if Lo ever came back to Goodneighbor. Because since then, she'd never felt so good with any of her one-night stands.

But the world changed, and high-powered groups fought, and it's easy for a woman who makes a living by the gun to get lost and caught up in that. And Magnolia was increasingly sure that Lo was dead.

Until one bright, hot evening, when she saw a familiar shape at the bar. A hard angular shape with a lot of soft brownish curls.

She finished her song, too much a professional to rush, then went over, heart in her mouth.

“Lo,” she said, low and fragile and full of hope and Lo turned to her to smile and oh, oh.

It was her, living and in the flesh and injured, a new angry scar across that brokenly handsome face and without thinking Magnolia reached out to it.

“Hey, Mags.”

“I think I'm definitely breaking my rule, Lo.”

Lo laughed, and Magnolia wanted to go and write a new song right now, something about gun-toting women with rough hands and dirty laughs, but more than that she wanted a fucking orgasm, thanks.

“Good to know,” Lo said. Then cleared her throat. “I'm thinking of becoming a Goodneighbor resident. Maybe you could show me the sights.”

Well. It would be different, for sure, something strange to pick her way through it, but hell. She'd done harder and stranger in her time.

“I'd love to,” she said.


End file.
